The majestic ship surged through the vast, frigid sea, its dark hull rising and falling in a steady rhythm as waves crashed against its sides.
That morning, the weather seemed milder than on most days of the voyage, with calmer winds and a less oppressive sky.
More often than not, however, the journey had been anything but merciful.
Some days were ravaged by violent storms; some nights, relentless rain turned to sleet, stinging skin and deck alike.
Other times, a thick fog would suddenly roll in, engulfing the mast and bow, obscuring the horizon until only damp wood and the creak of strained ropes remained.
Ice clung to the rigging and railings, footsteps rang sharply against the frozen deck, and time itself seemed to lose meaning beneath the unbroken grey sky.
It had not been an easy passage—just as Eric had warned. Yet for all its hardships, Kiev's magic had become the vessel's unseen backbone. His power did not merely protect the ship; it sustained it.
